Chuck Versus the Road Trip
by Steampunk.Chuckster
Summary: Canon, set early season 4, Chuck and Sarah are going on a road trip!


**A/N:** So I was chatting with **stardustinthesky** and telling her about the spooky building I interned in and she said she was apt to get nightmares, so I wrote this in an attempt to destroy any and all bad thoughts with Charah fluff.

This has not been edited by anyone other than myself, so any mistakes you find are mine and mine alone. Alas!

CANON, Set early season 4, Chuck and Sarah have finally managed to schedule some vacation time alone and are headed on a road trip up the coast! But, you know, they actually have to leave first...

**Disclaimer:** _Chuck_ was not, is not, and never will be mine. And it's a damn shame.

* * *

Sarah Walker had never been so tired in her life. There were times during past missions when she'd had to stay awake for three days straight, and she still hadn't been as tired as she was now.

She was so tired that the thought of moving from where she lay splayed over her boyfriend's side of the bed made her want to yell at the top of her lungs…if she had the energy. Even when moving meant putting her suitcase in the Porsche for a road trip and a much-needed five day vacation with her nerd. _Alone. Together. Finally._

Wait…her suitcase? She blinked groggily and looked down to see her suitcase leaning against the dresser next to his duffel bag. When had she—?

"Chuck?" she rasped against his pillow.

There was no response, so she pushed herself up to sit, her eyes swinging to and fro to survey the contents of the room, before falling back to bed and snuggling further into his scent on the pillow.

The door opened and she heard him tip toeing along the wood floors of their bedroom. She fought back a smirk at his inability to sneak properly, even after spy training, deciding instead to pretend to still be asleep. She heard him lift their luggage and sneak out again.

Sarah frowned in curiosity and sat up again, kicking at the sheets that had ended up twisted around her legs.

She ran a hand through her mussed hair and stood up with a groan. _God, why am I doing this? Get back in bed. Get back in bed._

She ignored her thoughts and slunk achingly to their bedroom window. She pushed the curtains to the side a bit to peek out into the courtyard and saw Chuck walk back through the gate empty-handed, swinging her Porsche keys on his finger. He did a little happy skip and grinned to himself.

When she heard him opening their front door, she spun and ran back to the bed, diving back into his side and shoving her face into his pillow. After about a minute, she heard clanging in the kitchen, so she pushed herself up again.

_What in the hell are you doing, Chuck?_

Unable to stem her curiosity in order to continue playing her game, she got out of the bed and grabbed one of Chuck's long sleeve dress shirts from where he'd slung it over the desk chair. It was a chilly morning and she only had her boy shorts and a cami on.

Still shrugging the shirt on and ignoring the way the sleeves fell past her hands, she padded down the hallway and stopped at the doorway into the kitchen.

Chuck's back was to her. Beside him on the counter were two paper lunch sacks, neatly folded shut. He turned with two giant car-safe coffee thermoses in his hand, and his eyes met hers. He immediately frowned, which was just a little off-putting.

"Sarah, noooo!"

"W-What?" She narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"You—You're supposed to—Damn it, woman. Get back in bed."

"Excuse me?" she half-laughed in amused shock.

"You're supposed to be sleeping still."

"We're leaving soon. I should be up and packing."

"I did that already!" he complained, setting the thermoses down next to the sacks.

"Chuck! I have to pack my own suitcase."

"Why?"

"Well, I have some special stuff I want to put in there…" His eyes bugged out and she was mightily pleased with herself. "And because you're afraid of touching my underwear. How do I know I won't get to our hotel room and find two T-shirts, a pair of jeans, and no underthings?"

"I'm not afraid of t—Okay, a little. But they're your intimate…things."

"I don't mind touching _your_ underwear."

"Subject change!" he said with a small blush, although he didn't seem _too _displeased by the current subject, Sarah noticed. "I got over it, and I packed you plenty of underthings. If you're so worried about what I packed, you can check. But the whole point of it was for you to sleep in this morning. Why aren't you still sleeping?"

"The bed got cold." She smirked when a goofy grin spread across his face. "I'm gonna go get dressed." She started to move towards their bedroom.

He whined again.

"What?" she asked, turning back to him, putting her hands on the door frame on either side of her.

"Well, it's pointless now."

"What is?"

"You were supposed to be sleeping through all of this and then I was gonna wake you up at the very last second to let you get dressed, and then I was gonna carry you to the car, and you were gonna see that I packed us breakfast and coffee and all our bags and I even made a couple of road trip playlists and put your eye mask thing in the back and an extra pillow—"

"So _that's _where my pillow went."

"You were sleeping on mine. I didn't think you'd miss it."

She let out a short giggle and beamed at him. "I'm going to go get dressed," she said in a low voice, peering at him through her eyelashes and shrugging so that his dress shirt fell down her arm to reveal a very bare shoulder.

Sarah Walker wasn't quite as tired as she walked slowly down the hallway. She suddenly heard Chuck crashing after her. Apparently he got the message, albeit a little late.

She squealed and ran for the bedroom, adrenaline kicking in as he sprinted after her. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind just as she got into the room and she squealed again, laughing when he lifted her up and haphazardly sent them both crashing onto the mattress.

As her hands pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, he lifted his head to peer down at her. "Aren't we supposed to be on the road in ten minutes?"

"It's a road trip, Chuck. Timing doesn't matter." She latched her lips onto his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned.

"Yeah, but—"

"It's a Porsche. I can make it go almost two-hundred miles per hour if you're worried about making up time."

"That's pretty fast," he breathed, and her chuckle was muffled as he kissed her.

* * *

A/N: There it is. I was thinking of writing into their actual road trip, but I decided to just leave it. I need to learn how to be a little less wordy anyway. (wink)

Shortest thing I've ever written! HUZZAH! I've proven that I can do it! Hope you all enjoyed it!

Until next time...


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